


What Happens on Tour...

by allofuswithwings



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mildly Dubious Consent, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Dom finds himself in a bit of a pickle when embarking on tour with U2.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	What Happens on Tour...

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published August 2009.
> 
> Sparked by Mittendorfer's comments on Twitter about U2 doing a Spiderman musical, and Bono and The Edge being obsessed with superheroes. Completely tongue-in-cheek and ridiculous.

Matt had just dozed off into a hazy half-drunken slumber when he heard a tapping at his hotel room door. Ignoring it, he turned over and pressed his arms further under the duvet, burying his head in the pillow. The tapping continued for a few moments more, and then his phone started buzzing on the dresser beside the bed.

Groaning, he stretched an arm out and pressed the phone to his ear, his hair sticking up sideways off his head.

“Mmpfwha..?” he grunted.

He heard nervous breathing on the other end of the line, before a jittery, whispering voice spoke.

“Matt, it’s me, let me in. Fucking let me in right now.”

Furrowing his brow and turning over, he yawned.

“Dom...? What... where are you?”

There was silence again on the other end before a rustling noise and swearing.

“I’m outside your hotel room, now let me in for fuck’s sake, I’m not kidding!”

Matt sat up slowly, shaking his head, before reaching for his jeans at the side of the bed.

“O’right, keep your knickers on, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up the phone, discarding it on the bed before pulling on his trousers and staggering over to the door. Rubbing at his face with one hand, he turned the handle and opened the door a crack, the light from the hallway making him squint.

Matt was met with the sight of an anxious Dom huddling at the side of his hotel room door, wrapped clumsily in a black overcoat with the collar pulled up past his neck. He whipped his head back and forth furtively, peering down the corridor at imaginary people.

“You’d better have a good reason for waking me up,” Matt sighed.

“Bloody let me in and I’ll explain everything,” Dom hissed, trying to push his way in.

But Matt held the door firm, shaking his head.

“No way I’m in the mood for playing your stupid late-night games, I’m fucking knackered,” he told him. “Go bother Chris or Tom or something.”

Dom dashed away from the door to hide around a corner further down the hall, as the lifts nearby opened. A couple of drunken revellers stumbled out and, not even noticing Matt peering out from his own room, staggered to their left and into one of the rooms, hands all over one another.

When they were gone, Dom emerged from his hiding place and crept back to Matt’s door, a pleading expression on his face. Matt’s stared at him curiously.

“Who the fuck are you hiding from?” he asked.

Dom swallowed, pulling at his own clothing nervously, fingers fidgeting over several layers of fabric.

“That wasn’t... anyone from our touring group, was it?” he asked, not answering the question.

“No... is that who’s after you?” Matt probed. “Fuck, don’t tell me you did something stupid like try to have it off with Bono’s wife, did you? I know you couldn’t keep your eyes off her tits earlier.”

Dom winced, but shook his head. He ran a sweaty hand over his face, his eyes wide.

“No. No. She went to bed earlier. The rest of us were hanging out...”

He trailed off, going pale.

“Please let me in, fucking hell, I can’t be out here,” he whined. “ _Please_.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, intrigued. What in the hell had gotten Dom so shaken up?

“Not until you tell me what you did,” he said. “I want to know why U2 want to kick your arse.”

Dom licked his lips, his eyes widening again, breaths rapid.

“They don’t want to...” he started. “Oh, fuck...”

He groaned to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He then took a deep breath, levelling his gaze at Matt and slamming a hand on the doorframe.

“If they find me, then consider yourself missing a drummer for the next week,” he growled. “Because there’ll be no way I can sit on that fucking drumkit seat after... after... they...”

Dom’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat.

“They what?” Matt prodded.

“Have their way with me,” Dom whimpered.

Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“Eh?!”

Moaning in frustration, Dom whipped open his overcoat to reveal himself clad in his Spiderman costume.

“It’s the fucking outfit, for Christ’s sake!” he cried.

Matt stood dumbfounded. Dom took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“I put it on as a joke, because they were all saying how much they like Spiderman, and were organising that fucking musical about it,” he explained. “Thought I’d make a twat of myself by dressing up, like I usually do, only... it backfired.”

He closed his coat again, looking about worriedly.

“As soon as I came out in the costume, they went fucking mental,” Dom continued, his voice growing quieter. “First it was just laughing and taking the piss, but then... then they started acting like I fucking was Spiderman, telling me how great I was, and they worshipped me and shit. It got... weird...”

He swallowed, closing his eyes as he spoke his next words.

“We were all drunk and fucking about, and you know I get quite hands-on when I’m like that, but it was too much,” he said. “People were running their hands over my costume, innocently at first, just the arms and shoulders, but then... everywhere else. And I mean _everywhere_. And not just the women.”

Matt tried to stifle a giggle, failing miserably. He knew he shouldn’t laugh, because Dom was visibly shaken by this, but my God, if it wasn’t bloody hysterical.

“You were getting felt up by U2?!” Matt snickered.

Dom glared at him.

“Not just them, but their whole bloody entourage, _and_ ours!” Dom exclaimed. “Cheeky fucking bastards.”

Matt snorted again.

“Oh, you fucking ask for it, dressing like that.”

Dom choked.

“Excuse me?! No I don’t!”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“You know you do. Why the hell else do you wear skin-tight bloody lycra, that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, if not to get people to leer at you?” he asked.

Dom stuck out his bottom him and huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

“I just fucking like Spiderman, okay?”

Matt grinned, scratching at his head sleepily with long fingers. Dom attempted to force his way into the room again, but Matt stopped him.

“Go hide from them in your own room, then you don’t have to worry about being violated,” he said.

Dom grimaced and pulled his coat tighter around himself.

“I can’t, they know which room I’m in and they’ll get in,” Dom whined. “They’re fucking U2; the hotel staff will believe anything they say. They’ll get them to open my door, pretending their friend got locked out or some shit. And then I’m fucked.”

“Quite literally,” Matt sniggered.

Noises came drifting down the hall from the stairwell, and Matt could see the lift counting up in numbers to their floor. A wave of panic washed across Dom’s face and he clawed at the door, desperately trying to get in.

“Please, oh God, _please_ , Matt, let me in!” Dom cried. “I’ll do anything!”

But Matt held fast; difficult given that his body was trembling with laughter and he was still half-asleep.

“Tell them that, I’m sure they’ll be more than pleased to know,” he giggled.

Glancing up the hall, Matt saw the lift doors open and The Edge’s face peer out. Dom froze, like a deer in headlights, eye wide.

“Fuck,” he whimpered.

The rest of the troupe emerged from the stairwell, and Dom bolted, his overcoat flapping behind him down the hall.

There were hoots of laughter as they spotted him and went in vigorous pursuit, spilling beer and champagne on the carpet as they trawled past Matt’s door.

The Edge raised an eyebrow as he went by.

Matt winked, a devilish smile stretched across his face. The Edge laughed and then broke into a jog to catch up with the rest of the group.

Matt shook with laughter as he watched a skinny blonde man in a Spiderman outfit get chased down a hotel hallway by half of U2 and their touring crew. Maybe not _the_ strangest thing he’d ever seen, but it was definitely in the top five.

Shaking his head, he stepped back inside his room, closing the door. He wasn’t sure exactly what they would do to Dom once they got hold of him; probably nothing more malicious than cop a feel and maybe a snog. And hell, who could blame them when Dom looked that way?

Regardless, Matt knew he’d get earful from Dom the next day, for not helping him escape. Though, given that they were only on the second date of their support, he imagined the rest of the tour would prove quite interesting after this incident. So, fuck it, let Dom be pissed at him. It was worth it to see Dom squirm that way.

Climbing back into bed, Matt drifted off to sleep with a large grin plastered on his face, thoughts of his fearful drummer clad in lycra floating through his head.


End file.
